The Witching Hour
by Imo-chan
Summary: Post EW - After Relena's death the g-boys are assigned to deal with the terrorist attacks on the Mars Colony - a mission that brings to light their hopes, weaknesses, and fears: all in an hour of darkness. 1x2 (imo-brand dysfunctional relationships).
1. DAWN - pt 1

Author: Imo-chan

Title: The Witching Hour – DAWN: part 1 

Archive/previous parts: @ a href "http://www.geocities.com/mienoumi_mu_rokuju/GWindex.html"m.i.r.a.i.z.o.u/a

Warnings:  First and foremost, I have to say this.  This story deals with **terrorism**.  It was started before the 11th of September, and I tried to modify it during the re-vamp to be as tasteful as possible considering, but without taking away from the impact of the events of the story.  Unfortunately, that is *very* hard to do, and if the subject is a sensitive one for you, please use caution when reading (or don't at all... ^_~).

Post EW (spoilers for series, EW and minor Ground Zero), drama, yaoi (or some weird variation of shounen-ai), some minor het-ness, complicated plot bunnies, limes/lemons (possibly), weird takes on relationships and characterization, major angst, death.       

Main pairings: 1x2x1, 4and3involvedsomehow, 5 being his annoyingly loner self.

Secondary pairings: 6+9+6, 1+R+1 (mentioned) 

Notes: ^-^ Yes, you've probably seen this fic before.  But no, it's not the same one.  I took it apart, changed relationships, added characters, and revamped the plot.  It took a god-awful amount of time, especially considering what a writing slug I am, but here's part of one of the prologue!~ Yay! *fallsover*

The 'new' Witching Hour is divided into four sections:

1) DAWN

2) MIDDAY

3) DUSK

4) MIDNIGHT

Dawn, in itself, is pretty much done, and should be about 3 or 4 parts... 

Alrighty, just a feeeeew more notes about the crazy relationships in this fic, and then I'll let you go... ^-^

The main pairing (if you can call it that) is 1x2 – but not like anything I've ever tried to do before.  It sometimes fails even to make sense to me, and I'm supposed to know what's going on... x_X So please... don't be scared off by the strangeness of Heero and Duo in this fic... they're supposed to act that way towards each other.  -_-   

PS. Many thanks to Blue-sama – my beta wunnerful beta - who I love muchly despite the fact she's evil.  *runsawayveryveryquickly*

**_Tis now the very witching time of night_**

**_When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out_**

_Contagion to the world_

 -- Hamlet [III.ii]

i. Dawn

_wide awake_

_and keeping distance from my soul_

_i am scared like you_

           -- Tool, _Cold and Ugly_

_pt. 1_

* * * * * * * *

He discovered, quite early on in their friendship, that Duo Maxwell was a very peculiar person.  Well, perhaps peculiar was the wrong word – Duo was more quirky than strange, and more like a little bit on the wrong side of psychotic than outright insane.  Duo was full of contradictions, little surprises that he thought no one else could see, because no one knew Duo Maxwell like him.  He, being trained and being a naturally observant person, realized that he picked up on the little things that Duo did that set him apart, things others just didn't seem to notice.  

Duo was a very physical person.  He liked to touch people – embraces, playing with hair, slinging an arm over a shoulder – he showed fondness towards a person by being involved in their personal space.  Duo was an outgoing individual, that sort of behavior seemed to be expected of people who enjoyed the company of others.  Duo liked to talk, Duo liked to laugh, but to him, it seemed that what Duo really enjoyed was the contact and warmth generated by a close crowd of friends.  Duo had a knack for attracting warm people, people who didn't mind his little hugs or touches; Duo was always surrounded by them.  But he found it strange that Duo would sometimes express a deep dislike for them, calling them "annoying, spoiled brats," or other, similar insults - even when he observed Duo talking and laughing and interacting with them quite amicably.  He had thought Duo prized honesty...   

There were other things, too.  

He also knew that Duo was a very self-conscious person, and didn't like to be alone for long periods of time.  Duo thought the dorm room was too big – although //he// had thought it rather small – and Duo spent as little time as possible inside.  He usually did his homework there, however, sitting on //top// of the desk, his knees pulled up to his chest and his books resting on his thighs.  Duo never did his homework alone, he always had to be there for Duo to pull out his work – in fact, he always had to be there for Duo to be there at all.  He found this strange at first, and a little annoying – every time he stood to leave Duo would be right there behind him with a bright, "Where ya goin', Heero?" – but he had come to accept it.  He thought it better to leave the little things be.  People had their own ways of doing things, probably for important reasons.  He never thought it important to pry. 

However, he did observe.  And he found that Duo, in all his constant interactions and physicality, was a very insecure person.  He noticed that Duo almost always wore long sleeves, he never changed for gym in the common area, and every time he showered, he would lock the bathroom door.  He had noticed that some outgoing people, as a result of their extroversion, unconsciously flaunted their body as well.  He had never seen Duo perform the slightest bit of provocation involving the build of his figure, and for all his natural grace, the only thing Duo flaunted was his personality.  He almost seemed //ashamed// of his body in many ways.  Duo always changed back into the priest outfit in their dorm; he was obviously uncomfortable in the tighter school uniforms.  And Duo always changed for sleep in the //locked// bathroom.  But once again, he knew that it was not his place to pry into matters such as these.  Duo obviously had reasons for acting the way he did, just as he, himself, had his own for being impersonal at times, he assumed it wouldn't do their new friendship any good to involve himself in things that were not really his concern.  After all, it was the only friendship he had.    

And that was another thing about Duo.  He had thought, at first, that Duo had 'befriended' him just because of their kindred mission.  Perhaps this was the case in the beginning, but he noticed that, for all the time they spent together during the war, Duo rarely talked about the mission with him.  They both knew what they had to do – they were getting separate instructions from different people, after all – and it seemed as though Duo didn't really //care// that he was a fellow pilot.  Perhaps that was what had brought them together in the first place, but it seemed to take a backseat after a while.  Duo acted as though he was just another friend – almost a 'best' friend.  And he had to admit he liked that.  He liked being included in the jokes Duo made, he liked being able to help him with problems, and he liked that special bond of camaraderie, the feeling that Duo understood.  

The only thing he found annoying about Duo was that he talked.  A lot.  But even the excessive chatter that Duo spewed when he was in groups seemed to fade when it was just the two of them.  It was interesting, that for all the words that came from Duo's mouth, one had to listen //very// hard to hear what Duo was saying.  He discovered that Duo was actually quite bitter and sarcastic, extremely observant, blindingly intelligent.  He could also be downright 'mean' at times.  Part of this seemed to come hand-in-hand with an equally intense, softer, thoughtful side that balanced out the brightness of Duo's more 'public' personality.  He noticed that Duo rarely showed this to anyone else that he knew, and it he found it very strange that he got a perverse surge of pride by being one of the few to see that different, saddening, part of Duo Maxwell.  

"I think you're in trouble, Heero," Duo had muttered into his pillow one night, turning over with a sigh, darkening the edges of his voice.  

What are you referring to?

"She's really dangerous," he said in that same tone, almost to himself, but with enough pull in his voice to make sure there was conversation in it.

Who?

"That girl.  The one with the blond hair.  She knows you."

Yes.

"She's really dangerous, man," Duo scooted up in the bed until his back was curled, resting against the headboard, the blankets draped over his knees.  "She knows you."

Yes.

"She knows //you//.  She knows who you are."

... yes.

Duo blinked.  "She's too important to know something like that."

She knows who you are too.

"I'm not a big deal.  She doesn't care about me," Duo's mouth tilted upwards in a soft smile; just his upper lip was visible in the glow of the hall light that slipped under the dorm room door; it made it look like he was sneering.  "She's dangerous."

Why do you keep saying that?  Relena can't hurt any of us.  She's ju –

"Relena," he was testing the name.

Yes.

"Believe me, Heero, she's dangerous.  She's already causing problems for you."  His eyes had gone very dull, and his mouth was a flat, straight line. 

She's just a –

"A girl.  A civilian, fuck it.  If they know that she knows, they'll hurt her," Duo snapped.  "You don't want that."  

No.

"So, be careful around her, is all.  You can't keep slipping up where she's concerned.  Obviously keeping her safe, in this case, would mean that the less she knows, the better, okay?"  

How did you get the authority to give me orders?

He laughed.  "These aren't //orders//, Heero. Call it advice.  From whoever you would prefer to hear it from.  She's dangerous to you, until this thing is over."

Feelings aren't dangerous.

Duo looked almost startled – a little heartbeat of time that hiccoughed over his face, and suddenly, he was different.  He was softer.  A long, rounded edge of eclipse blurred the definitions of his features, as if the humour and the bitter edge had drained out of him, leaving only something like a silhouette behind.  His voice sounded very dry.    

"Maybe not.  But connections to feelings are dangerous.  From connections you get impracticality, rashness, and self-sacrifice.  You get revenge.  You get hurt."   

That is a feeling also.  Therefore it is an acceptable risk.

"Risk, shmisk, Heero!"  He growled, knotting the sheets in a fist and leaning his upper body towards the edge of the bed in an almost primal lunge, his face a crisp, bright challenge.  That hiccough was gone, replaced somehow, by a whirlwind of bitterness laced with warning.  "We're in a very delicate kinda war here... you can't go around just blowing shit up in the day and blowing kisses at night.  You play the valiant hero like that and you'll be killed.  Or she will.  We can't afford your stupid risks!  You've gotta be //careful//, man.  You start messing around with people's feelings and you're gonna be dealing with more shit falling from the sky than you can shovel away.  Ya got it?"    

Control.

"I didn't say smother, Heero.  I just meant you've got to be //smart// about it."  

It was that little, tiny, brief, flash-glimpse at the 'other' Duo Maxwell that made him all that more interested in the way that Duo acted.  It was those soft quirks that made his friendship that much more attractive.  It was, after all, that ultimate human contact that he occasionally craved – the desire to feel a connection with someone wholly human, and yet, someone who would understand him and forgive his rougher edges.  Duo Maxwell was that person; the one who was as human as anyone could be, and the one who empathized with what he had seen, what he knew and how he had become to be the way he was, someone who would tell him when he was too far out of place.  Someone who was as 'strange' as he was.  That, in itself, was a gift so rare he had never thought to wish it.  And now that he had it, he prayed – for the first time in his life, he prayed – that nothing would ever deprive him of Duo Maxwell's company.         

* * * * * * * * *

[AC 195 – pre Operation Daybreak]

The men were old.  Their faces were lit with lines of endurance; their hair was salt-white, glinting like the metal ornaments on their uniforms as they walked under the morning sun.  Their shiny, black boots made softly imprinted footsteps on the garden path; their weathered hands, formed like the pebbled skin of peach pits and walnut shells, were clasped behind their backs as they talked.  Behind them were the shouts and screams of little children in play, and in front, the sweet lilt of two young girls in conversation as they sat perched back-to-back on the garden wall, one facing out, the other in.  

They were old men faced with a new fight – with only their age to be both witness and weapon against the obstacles ahead.         

"Can you see much opposition to your proposal, Marshal?"  Asked one to the other, his eyes following a line of birds in the sky.

"From the majority?  No," he replied.  "We've borne witness to war too long to fail to see reason on this issue.  The only seats I would be concerned about would be the Specials."

"Of course.  Trieze is - "

"Trieze is a brilliant man, Vingte," Noventa interrupted sharply; not even age could take the whip out of his voice.  "I have, on more than one occasion, been very grateful for his presence.  He is very intelligent."  The Marshal sighed.  "And in that lies my worry.  The Specials are young.  Treize himself is young. Too young to understand how we must put an end to this seemingly endless era of war."

"They are a minority, Marshal."

"Perhaps in the safety of a conference, Vingte.  But only there."  

"Marshal?"

"Treize commands and receives respect from everyone.  He reveres the lives of his soldiers; he makes them fight for a cause... even if they do not really believe his truth... there are many who would..." the old man paused, a sharp light splintered in his eyes as they moved over the garden wall.  "Never mind, Vingte, leave that train of though for now... I do not want to spread seeds of suspicion.  That will only lead to more violence, I think.  We must, however, watch the Specials more carefully.  They must understand our motives for wanting this peace."

"You will be able to convince them."

"There is that hope." 

They walked on in silence; the marshal's eyes strayed to the wall where the two girls sat, soft blond hair and dark curls.  A generational familiar smile in the young face; woolen socks on swinging legs.  A whipping resilience in the strong back and a sharp, dark, Spartan jumper.  

"I am beginning to feel old, Vingte."

"Marshal..."

"What is it that makes them want revenge for wars they were not alive for?  What makes them so proud as to lose that sense of reverence for life?"

The other was silent.  His eyes, too, were fixed upon the girls.

"We were like that once."

"We were."

"How old is Winifred, Vingte?"  Noventa asked suddenly, turning to his friend.  

"She is 16," the general replied, his eyes not leaving the silhouette of the dark-haired girl.  "17 in December."

"Has your son returned from Lake Victoria, then?  I know he likes to be home with Winifred for Christmas – especially since Simone passed away."

Vingte nodded slowly.  "He does.  He hasn't returned yet, and probably won't for a few weeks now, considering the circumstances... these fresh attacks... but Winifred wants to visit sometime before then."

"She hasn't changed her mind?"

"No," Vingte closed his eyes.  "The army seems to be what she wants.  I can remember when Claude would try to teach her cryptology, how to recognize the different parts of an MS control panel, when she was only 4!"  The old man laughed gently.  "But she was so interested."

"She's as bright as her father – the forces will have her in a second," Noventa agreed solemnly.  "Silvia greatly enjoys it when she comes to visit."  

"And Winifred the visits.  She was worried she would not be able to see Silvia as often once they both left for school."

"//Will// she be joining the forces after exams?"

"She wants to.  Claude thinks she should take more courses... specialize, prepare.  Perhaps she would have, too… But, there are circumstances now... her resolve is heightened."

"I'm sure they will be able to organize more time.  Besides, they wouldn't want to spend of all their vacation with a couple of old men like us."

Vingte laughed.  "So true, Marshal..."

"Girls!  Breakfast!" Came the call from the ivy-covered window of the house and Silvia Noventa and Winifred Vingte slid from the wall, ran along the path past their grandfathers, and into the house to wash their hands.   

* * * * * * * * *

[AC 197, March 25th, near the ruins of the Presidential Complex]

From where they stood on a crest of the broken ground, they could see the silhouette hulking against the skyline.  It rose out of the sandy ruins like an impulsive mountain, looking like a sinewy mound of flesh and feathers and wires and mechanics, like a half-decayed whale beached up onto an alien landscape.  Duo could see the chest-hatch door jutting up from the mound, from where it still lay open and crooked, knocked from the bearings in the fall, or pulled from them by scavengers looking for parts.  Even in the half-light of dusk, gaping holes in the structure were visible, where plates had been cut and removed, where wires had been extracted, where graffiti had been scrawled, where a leg used to be, where there had been a joint before, where that colossal symbol of their revolution and strength had once lain, and now was nothing more than another burnt-out memory.      

"People can be real vultures, dammit," Duo muttered, turning to see Heero tip the bottle of water to his lips.  

"The vandalism is understandable.  Wing Zero contains many valuable materials in its structure," Heero replied softly, adjusting the straps of his pack.  

"Understandable, my ass.  You should have destroyed it with the rest," Duo spat fiercely.  "If that was ever made to function again, you kn - "

"It is not possible to restore Zero again without the aid of the Doctors.  They're gone; therefore there is no risk in letting it remain here.  It is hard for people now, to find metals like these," he gestured with a flickering of his wrist towards the fallen Gundam.  "There is no danger."

"Then for what, exactly, did we come here for?"  Duo sing-singed, letting his head tilt sideways in a mocking posture.

"To collect the Zero System," Heero replied, starting down the hillside at a brisk trot.

"Hey, hey!  Earth to Heero!  //That's// exactly what I was talking about... you left that psychotic mess of wires and Madame Destiny in Wing for 3 months!  Fully functional, I might add!  I think that qualifies as considerable danger…!"  Duo yelled into the dust after him.  When no reply came, he sighed heavily and shouldered his own pack before sliding down after his friend.          

The wind whipped violently around him, sending his braid snapping away from his head, and his long coat tangling around his legs.  Raising his arm protectively to block the dust, he managed to catch up to Heero's measured strides, and only then did he raise his eyes to the mammoth they were approaching.  For some reason - maybe because he hadn't seen a Gundam this close in a good 3 months - Wing Zero seemed to be incredibly daunting, ridiculously immense, even in its decrepit state.   

"God," he muttered against the inside of his jacket sleeve as Heero examined the half-fallen hatch ladder and swung himself up onto the rungs, "did I really pilot one of these things?"  

With only the bitter wind, full of sand and dirt, for an answer, Duo sighed and followed suit, two rungs behind Heero as they climbed, hand-over-hand to the open hatch.

"I can't believe you talked me into this!"  Duo called over the increasing howl of the wind to the slightly blurred shape of Heero above him.  "You know, if you had asked me five months ago, if I would ever set foot in this piece of crazy mother-fuck again, I would've laughed in your face – but god-dammit, here I am, climbing the sides, about to swing my sorry self into the – and I'm... talking to myself again, aren't I?" He trailed off as he realized he was standing at the crooked hatch, complaining to the wind.

Dropping down into the cold, dark, sheltered space of the cockpit, he swung his pack off his shoulders and pulled out a package of flares.  "Man, this place stinks!" he muttered as he extracted one and lit it, flooding the interior with an icy blue glow.  Swinging the flare around, he wrinkled his nose.  

"Jeezus, what happened here?  A generation of rats use it as a litter box?  Eeeuch!"  

Hopping down from the console where he had landed, he examined the state of the cockpit.  The entire space was flipped on its back, the rear of the cockpit was now the floor, the seat and main controls were strange and half-intact protrusions.  The console and switchboards now made and lined the walls, wires and screens hanging haphazardly from their previous fixtures.  The hatch opening and the main view screen now loomed overhead, cracked and askew.  Heero was already sitting down, having cleared a space for himself to the left of the main controls, and was unpacking his bag.  Duo joined him, setting the flare down on a discarded switchboard panel that had fallen from the wall.   

"So what's the plan?" He asked, propping one elbow up on crossed knees, and resting his cheek in his palm.  

"I'm going to take out this panel," Heero placed one splayed hand on a dented, metal covering held in place by a series of screws, "And then hook up the laptop to the internal system."

"You think it's still functional?"

"The Zero System ran on an autonomous power supply that could only be shut down through the system itself – "

"Which is encrypted like the Dickens... got it."

"...correct," Heero snorted.  "And can only be accessed through this port.  It should be fine."

"You think you can get main power online while you're at it?  This is fucking creepy," Duo muttered.  

"I could, but it would take longer," Heero began to work at the screws, each one made a dull 'clink' as it fell from its place.

"Forget it, then," Duo sighed.  "Anything I can do?"

Heero tugged at a difficult screw.  "Pull out the disk pack and boot up the laptop."  

"Gotcha."        

They worked without speaking; their ears filled with the sound of the wind outside, which was still howling like a trapped animal.  Duo pulled a large, black case from Heero's pack and snapped it open.  Inside were meticulously organized plastic slips containing disks and CDs with numbers and letters scrawled in Heero's writing across their faces.  Giving it a quick look-over, flipping the plastic pages back and forth to grasp some understanding of the organization, Duo slipped it over to his left and pulled the laptop onto his lap.  He glanced over at Heero, who was pulling the last screw from the panel.  

"You still using '13y15p9a'?" he asked, tapping a finger to the screen.  

Heero paused, the screw falling into his hand and rolling back and forth in his palm.  

"Yes," he said finally; he sounded uncomfortable and tense – as though the echo of the passcode in the dark and empty space was an embarrassment; an intrusion.    

"Cool," Duo pursed his lips and typed nonchalantly at the keyboard; he didn't feel like raising his eyes to look at Heero.  He hated seeing that weird, precariously confused expression that he //knew// would be there.  It always happened.  Whenever they talked about the war – about the way things had been before, it was there.  What they did.  How they did it.  What they could have done instead.  He was tired of that face.  It was as though Heero sometimes took repression to a completely superior level – and was so confused by the past it hurt to think about it.  

There was a sharp clatter of metal on metal as Heero raised the panel and let it fall to the cockpit floor.  Duo hazarded a quick, sideways glance at Heero.  His back was curved, the thin column of his spine rode up and into the dark shadow of the panel-less hole where his head was bent over the puzzle of untangling old wires.  

"You in?"  Duo asked, sliding the computer over to Heero's side and peering in over his shoulder.  All he could see was a dark hole.  Square-shaped and dank.  Small.  

"Preliminarily, yes," Heero replied, snapping together two wire ports and peering back to observe the laptop's status.  Obviously approving, he pulled himself out of his crouch at the mouth of the hole and set about attaching the computer to the ambiguous snake of wires that emerged from dark opening.

Duo sat back on his heels, squinting into the black.  "You need anything else?"

"Could you set up a flare in there?"  Heero spoke without looking up from the blinking, whirring screen lights.  "Please."

"Sure thing."

A new flare lit and Heero typing rapidly at the laptop, Duo scooted forward on his knees to examine the Zero System's home in better light.  He set the flare down in an unobtrusive corner of the opening and ran his eyes over the interior.  

"Huh."  Duo sniffed.  In truth, there wasn't that much to see.  Three small walls literally spider webbed with coloured wires and one large panel fixed on the ceiling of the space.  More heavy screws held it in place, and some foreign hand had scrawled something along the surface in thick black marker.  

"Whaddas //that// say?"  He asked, pulling his head from the opening.

Heero looked up.

"The writing," Duo explained.  "On the panel inside."  He jerked his head up and over to demonstrate the direction.    

Heero looked genuinely confused.  Setting the computer to the floor, he peered inside himself.  It was a good ten seconds before he pulled his head out again and looked at Duo with that unnervingly calm gaze.  

"'Hello, Heero'."

"What?"

"That's what it says," Heero elaborated, once more pulling himself into the opening, this time on his back, placing the laptop on his stomach.  Sharp clicking of the keys and thrumming beeps of recalled information emanated from inside.  

"To you?"

"Apparently," Heero said, slipping the curt word into a pause between keyboard taps.  

"Who wrote it?" Duo asked, after a pause.  

Heero's body, or what was visible of it, shifted minutely and a hand emerged from the hole.  "I don't know," he said.  "I need three disks – A-4154, A-1Z, A-2Z."

Duo, his knees pulled to his chest, his back against the cockpit wall, reached for the disk pack and found the appropriate ones.  Handing them to Heero, he asked, "Whaddiya mean?  Wasn't it for you?"

The hand accepted the items and withdrew.  There was a whirring sound and a loud, long beep.  "Probably," Heero replied.  "It wasn't there on the Peacemillion."

"What?!"

"When I copied it for Quatre."

"The writing wasn't there?!"     

"B-Z5.  No."

Duo's body suddenly felt very cold.  "You mean somebody broke into the..."

"Probably.  B-Z5."

"Oh, sorry..." Duo reached numbly for the disk.  "But, hey... doesn't that //worry// you, Heero?"

There was no response.  The sharp clicking of the keyboard resumed and the wind roaring outside rose to such an intensity that any soft answer Heero might have uttered would have been lost.        

A half-hour passed, another followed, and then an hour in its entirety.  They said nothing more to each other.  The air in the cockpit was quiet, stagnant; tense.  Outside, the wind rose and fell in pitch, and deeper in, the sounds emanating from the flare-lit opening were steady, mechanical thrums, clicks and whirs.    

"So why didn't you come here earlier?" Duo asked suddenly, the words tumbling out in the space between two heartbeats.

Heero didn't reply immediately, but the sound of the keyboard stopped.  Duo shifted uncomfortably in the silence, running his fingers against the edge of some exposed wire that threaded along the underside of the cockpit control panel, intersecting and merging like metal-gray veins.  He heard a soft sound, like a sigh, and there was a clatter as Heero shoved the laptop into the cockpit, crawling out of the hole afterwards.   

"I don't know," he admitted finally, as he took two joined wires and unsnapped them from an out-port in the back of his laptop.  "There were other things that were more important."

Duo watched as Heero slipped back into the dark space, lying on his back again, his legs visible and the laptop resting on his stomach.

"Like disappearing off the face of the planet for two months?"  

"Watch it, Duo," Heero snapped.  The slang sounded so foreign in that voice that Duo snorted, in spite of himself.  

"I mean it," Heero tapped loudly on the keyboard, and the whirring sound of a disk was heard.  "Take these disks back."

"Oh, okay... I see.  Un-chartered territory, right?  Not allowed access to the hallowed depths of Heero Yuy's thoughts.  'Password incorrect' and all that jazz," Duo muttered as he rummaged through the disk pack.  

"Duo."  

"Fine, fine," he said, trying not to be too huffy.  Settling back against the wall, he noticed Heero pull the laptop from the opening and begin to disengage wires from the back.

"You done?"

"Yes."  Heero closed the laptop, stood, and grabbed the panel from where it lay on the ground.  Picking it up, he slid it gently inside the hole, but did not attempt to reseal the opening.    

"Hey," Duo interjected.  "That's probably not a good idea unless you – "

"It's gone."

Duo just blinked.  

"It's not," he finally replied.

"It is," Heero rolled his shoulders and stuffed the laptop into its carrying case.  "The sealing on the casing of the upper panel's been broken off and the wires have been severed and soldered together.  The blueprints and plans hidden in the password-protected archives are gone."

"Gone?"

"All memory erased.  That would suggest an intruder accessed Wing's archives."       

"I TOLD you.  I TOLD you, you shouldn't have left it."    

Heero was silent.  His eyes, fixed on the dark emptiness of the hole from which he had emerged, were narrowed, but the hazy light from Duo's flare made them glint wetly – as though they were full of tears.  

Suddenly overcome by a need to sooth the desperate feeling of deception and helplessness in the air, Duo floundered for an excuse.  "Hey, hey... Look, we can run a test, I'm sure – it might just be a mistake, like it got wiped out during some tinkering – the person who did it probably didn't even know it was there."

"You know that's not true."  Heero's eyes narrowed.  

"So we'll track the asshole.  Who'ver left you that creepy note.  We'll get it back."

"Duo, this was a clean job.  As far as I can tell, it could have been Dr.J," Heero murmured.  "But we know it wasn't him."  

"So that's it?"  Duo growled, half to himself.  "We're leaving?"

"Do you want to stay?"  

Duo shivered involuntarily as Heero stood and began to pack the various instruments and disks scattered around the cockpit.  

"Shouldn't we?  You know, run a few more tests – make sure it's really not there...?" he asked, not really sure why he was saying it.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?"  Heero snapped, his voice ringing in the metallic space.  

Duo flinched.  "God, man... relax."

Heero snorted, pulling his bag closed and swinging it over his shoulder.  "Turn off that light," he said.  

Duo sighed angrily, extinguishing the flare beside him; the cockpit was thrust into blinding darkness.  Patting the sand-encrusted floor around him, Duo found the strap of his own pack, and raised himself to his feet.  He heard the scuffling of Heero's movement on the opposite side of the cockpit, near the hatch opening and slowly felt his way along the wall towards the sound.  

"Hey," he whispered as the sky and stars came into view in the hatch opening, Heero's silhouette blocking much of the outside,  "You okay?"

"Okay."

"You cooled down?  You're not gonna bite off my head again if I say something stupid?"

Heero made a soft sound in his throat.

"Hey, hey," Duo swung the pack over his shoulder.  "We'll figure something out, okay?  It's cool, right?"

"It's... cool."

"Good, good.  Yanno, man – you have to relax.  You fucki – "    

"Duo..." The sound was a sharp sigh, and the shadow of Heero's figure moved in the hatch opening – backed away and slipped to the side, until Duo could feel the warmth of breath on the side of his face.  Duo froze, his fingers closing tightly, tensely, around the handle of his pack.  

"It's all right," Heero's voice was intensely quiet – driven, and almost breathless; Duo hated it when he spoke like that, all breathy, moist words that meant too much.  The only other time he heard it was at night, when they shared a pillow, and Heero would run the pads of his fingers over the curve of Duo's neck and place his lips just beside Duo's ear and whisper...       

"You know I wo – "

"So, let's go home!" Duo burst out, brushing past him, and up out into the whipping night air, the breath pulled from his lungs and the muscles in his legs and chest gone weak.  

"This place gives me the creeps."

* * * * * * * * 

"Here.  The flowers for Grandfather."

"Winny…"

"…"

"Win..."

"You disgust me."

"I..."

"You should have killed him."

"You say that every year.  You know there wasn't any p-"

"Don't you tell me there wasn't any POINT!!"

"But…"

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Winifred…"

"Goodbye."

[end part 1]

- - - - - - - -


	2. DAWN - pt 2

[For warnings and notes, please see part 1.]

Notes: Well, first off – thanks to everyone who replied to the first bit-thing of this ficcie.  It really means a lot to me!~ *scratches head* I think elyndys-sama even said she remembered it from before... which was a little – 'wow'.  ^-^ Thanks, elyndys!  And again, kisses and glomps to Blue, my beta, without who there would be much less coherence and a great deal more dashes than there ever needed to be.  *glomps*

Second, I'm sorry, especially to the 1x2ML, but this part doesn't have all that much – well... 1x2.  It *does* have it, and it's a bit more graphic than the previous part... but all in all, this is an annoyingly info-laden part, centering around Zechs and Noin on Mars.  Gah... I'm really, really, sorry about that... but this fic is *not* just 1x2.  *sighs* which is probably as much for my sanity as it is for the plot, as that relationship is giving me *hell*.  It's so damn uncooperative.  _

**_Tis now the very witching time of night_**

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to the world 

Hamlet [III.ii.]

**i. Dawn**

_wide awake_

_and keeping distance from my soul_

_i am scared like you_

           -- Tool, _Cold and Ugly_

_pt.2_

* * * * * * * *

[AC 200, January 3rd, 13:45 hours (Greenwich): Sector 2 – DB003, Sinai Planum, Mars]

"Well?"

"Sir!" The red-uniformed group of mechanics and labourers sprung up from the floor, their hands snapping to salute as Zechs Merquise strode through the door into the destroyed docking bay.  

A woman in a white uniform jumpsuit, still crouched where the others had been, flung a piece of metal to the ground.  "Looks like the same as the last one.  They set up bombs here, here, there, and there," she said, pointing along the wall at four different points.  "The explosions must have blown off the exterior coverings pretty easily because the panels weren't completely secured yet, and then that same compound must have been released with the detonation.  It completely soldered the wires and panels together."  She rose, brushing the dust from her legs.  "They're ruined.  The entire construction schedule of the docking bay will have to be pushed back at least another three weeks."

"Has someone filed a report?"  Zechs asked, brushing past the line of still-saluting recruits to examine the walls.

"I'll do it," the woman said, brushing dark hair from her eyes and coming to join him at a ruined console.  "I want to examine it a bit further beforehand."  

Zechs was silent, one hand pressed to the mess of wires and melted metals.  "Are they still saluting?" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

She laughed quietly, and then turned.  "That's enough, everyone," she called to them, "We'll have the new work schedule out to you all by the next 24 hours. Until then, use this time to catch up on any work that needs to be finished."

"Sir!"  The group exclaimed and then scattered.  

"They're still OZ, through and through," she moaned quietly.  

"Not much you can do about that," Zechs agreed.  "Noin?"

"Yes?"

"What were the results from the lab?"

Noin sighed.  "From the previous attack?  Not any different from what we thought.  It's a simple magnesium compound injected into a powerful explosive, that upon detonation, severs and destroys the paneling before demolishing and soldering the wires – rendering the whole circuitry useless."  

"Dammit."

"It's going to be hard to counter, unless we figure out who's doing it right away.  There isn't any viable alternative for the wiring materials at this point – and the magnesium just happens to be exactly the right thing to screw it up."  

"Has WEI been notified again?" Zechs asked, turning.

"Yes," Noin said, gesturing for him to follow her out the door.  "We should probably prepare ourselves for a conference call at some point within the next 14 hours or so.  Catalonia Corporate is going to crawl all over this – and this //is// three acts of sabotage in a row, now... the media are starting to get hold of it."

"Then the public – "

" – then the stock market."

" – then our funding gets cut."

They moved out into the passageway, the ribbed silver tubing of a hallway that led to the spider web structure of the developed colony, a collective sigh in their throats.        

"This is awful," Noin muttered as they passed two young recruits.  "We're lucky the attacks haven't targeted any living quarters yet, but what if they do...?"  She sighed loudly.  "Winner Enterprises can't give us enough funding to provide an extra security detail – especially with current circumstances being what they are."

"Well, unless we //get// an extra security detail, the current circumstances won't improve all that much.  It's Project Rust's fault that WEI stocks have been falling," Zechs growled. 

"It's //not// our fault," Noin said adamantly.  "It's those damn Anti-Mars Colonization groups.  Stupid People's Union [1]," she sniffed.  

"They've denied any attachment to attacks, Noin," he reminded her.

"Doesn't change the fact that Gary Rhysborov is a self-proclaimed Anti-Colonizer.  In here," she moved to an open doorway.  "Toby can give you the lab results himself."

"An Anti-Colonizer, yes.  Anti-MCP [2], yes.  But a politician first.  He's not a violent person, much less a terrorist," Zechs countered, following Noin into a small, low-lit room where two young men were bent over a flickering console, both of them dressed in Project Rust uniforms.     

"What're we talking about; Rhysborov?"  One of the boys asked, without raising his eyes from the information on the console.

'Unfortunately," Noin sighed.  "Do you have another available copy of the damage reports, Toby?"

The boy glanced up cursorily, his dark eyes flickering over Zechs.  "Commander," he nodded.  "Which ones did you want?"  He asked of Noin.  

"What?"  She asked, confused.  

"Russell and I just finished the most recent report with the information you sent," Toby smiled, looking nonchalantly proud, gesturing with his head at the other boy.  

"You mean, today's?"  Noin glanced at the console incredulously.  There, indeed, were the results of the most recent attack.  

"Impressive," Zechs nodded.  

"Thank you, sir," Russell flicked a salute without turning from the console.  Toby grinned.  

"So, what's up with Catalonia's lackey?"  He asked, ejecting a floppy disk and tossing it to Noin, over Russell's bent head.  Noin caught it and slipped into the pocket of Zechs's jacket.    

Zechs closed his eyes, looking rather exasperated.  "Noin, you cover this – I have things to do.  Russell," he motioned to the red-haired boy concentrating on the console, "Can I enlist your help for an hour?"  

Russell, glancing for approval from his colleague, nodded smartly to Noin and followed Zechs out the door.  

"Really, did he just //order// you to engage in impropriated gossip, sub-commander?" Toby laughed, settling himself comfortably into a chair by the console.  

"I //think// so," Noin managed a weak smile at the infectious grin on Toby's face.  

//He's so much like how I remember them...//

Toby let out a raucous laugh, settling down to smirk at her again.

"So what //is// your take on this?" She asked him.  

"On the attacks?"  he replied, twisting his mouth into a thoughtful frown.  "Well, I know the Commander hates it when people jump to conclusions, but I wouldn't put it past PUACOM.  I mean, they might not be doing it directly, but they're certainly sharing philosophies with the terrorists; who says they're not sharing money or materials too, right?"  

"It's a good point," she nodded, leaning against the console.  "One we've thought of, yes.  Zechs – the Commander – was thinking of asking the Preventers to set up a case."

"You mean they haven't already?"  Toby looked genuinely outraged.  

"Well – "

"That's pathetic!"  he spat.  "I thought Winner's friends were on the payroll!"

"Toby," she admonished.  "This should have nothing to do with friends."

"We have 'em, why not use 'em?"  That grin was back, completely disarming her.      

"Ah, well... they've had their own problems, I suppose," she shrugged.  "You think...?"

"Don't know why you're asking //my// opinion."  He swiveled in his chair, casting her an arch glance.  "I'm just a lowly OZ recruit."  

She swatted him across the back of the head.  "Idiot.  Really, what do you think?"

"Call 'em," he nodded, seriously.  "The attackers are using specific compounds – the magnesium, especially, should be an important clue in tracking the materials and payments, I think.  Get 'em on it."  

She nodded, pushing herself away from the console.  "Thanks for the input, Tob.  I'll run it by the Commander and we'll see."

"Why not just do it yourself, anyway?"  Toby asked, distractedly, as the console beeped loudly.  "I know Russell said the Commander was going to busy with him for a while – trying to organize a security patrol for developing docking bays – all volunteers and stuff."  

"All right then.  I'll call HQ now," she stopped in the doorway.  "By the way, how's Russell holding up?"

"Shane Russell is pure gold, Sub-commander.  You got nothing to worry about." 

//...exactly like him...//

"Thanks Toby."

"Anytime, sir."   

* * * * * * * *

[AC 201, September 22nd, New Angeles, Earth]

"I'm sorry, sir.  But as I told you, she can't – "

"Oh, fuck this.  Relena!"  

"Sir, please don't shout – there's a meeting in pro – "

"RELENA!"  

"Sir!"

The massive oak doors swung open revealing an extremely irate-looking, professionally dressed Relena Darlian-Peacecraft.  

"Duo."  

"Relena, listen I – "

"//Why// were you shouting?"   

"Relena, I need to talk with you."  

"Well, obviously.  Usually one wouldn't barge in on important colony-relations briefings if it were otherwise," she raised her eyebrows meaningfully.  

He paused, blinking rapidly, taking in her angry expression, her uniform, her neatly dressed hair.  

"Aw fuck, I'm sorry," he exhaled loudly.

She tilted her head, noticing the frantic wildness in his eyes, the lines on his forehead.  Her anger dissipated into worry; Duo was too good a friend to let this pass.  

"Duo, is there something wrong?"  

"God, I don't know what I was thinking... I'm sorry... I'm such an idiot..."

"Duo. What is it?"     

He passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing at his forehead.  "It's just, have ya talked with Heero lately?"  

She looked puzzled.  "No."

"Oh," Duo said, looking extremely uncomfortable.  "Oh.  Okay then.  Look, sorry for the interruption and stuff.  Go back to the meeting, uhm... we can talk later, k?"  

"Now you've got me worried Duo," she said, catching his arm as he turned to leave.  "Did something happen?  Is Heero - ?"  Then she paused, catching sight of the look in Duo's eyes – a look she wished she didn't know quite so well.  

"Did he leave again?"  

A dark grimace pulled at Duo's mouth and he brushed his hair back from his face in a slightly uncomfortable gesture.  "I think so," he said at length.  "I just wanted to check to see if – "

"No, he's not here."

"All right.  Well, look.  I'd rather not talk about this here, now."  

"Of course.  I could call you after the meeting, if you'd like that?"

He nodded absently, turning to go.  "Sure, sure."  Dismissing her help.   

"Duo," she wished she could pull him back – he looked so very tired.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he laughed.  "Forget about it.  It's not like this hasn't happened before..."

She sighed, squeezing his hand before releasing it.  "I'll call you, Duo."

"Bye, Miss."     

* * * * * * * *

[AC 201, November 12th, 19:06 hours (Greenwich): Sector 4-LQ389, Sinai Planum, Mars]

Something was beeping loudly in her ear.  

Flinging out a sleep-slowed hand, she made contact with the keyboard and managed to locate the source of the incessant sound, discovered it was a call, and activated it, pulling herself up onto her elbows.  

"Mm... Hello?"

"Hey, hey, Noin!"  Duo Maxwell's familiar voice cackled over the speakers.  There was a pause.  "You becoming a dark avenger of the night?  Mysterious voice behind the curtain? 'Good Morning Charlie', and all that?" he chuckled.

"What are you talking about?"  She laughed weakly, rubbing at her eyes.

"The vidscreen, hon. I'm talking to the nicest blank monitor known to man."

It took her a moment to register.  "Oh!" She exclaimed sheepishly, pouncing on the screen activation button just before a huge yawn almost split her face in two.  

"Woah!  Lu," Duo's voice warbled with laughter.  "Someone keep you up last night?"  

She glared at him, rubbing on eyes to clear the sleep-bright stars that still sparked behind the lids.  "As a matter of fact, yes," she responded haughtily.

Duo pulled a face.  "What are you, //trying// to corrupt me?"  

She laughed.  "I didn't expect you to call until later," she admitted.  "You usually don't until – "

"2100, I know," Duo sighed.  "But Heero needs the 'phone for a Preventers thing later tonight..."

"But don't you usually call Quatre right about now?"  She asked.  

"You sound like you're trying to get rid of me, or something..." Duo cocked an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the ends of his mouth.  

"What?  Oh, no!"  She exclaimed.  "You're always so punctual with the Sunday calls, though.  It comes as a surprise." 

'I'm joking, Lu.  Yah, I know... but Qat's spending the weekend at Trowa's apartment, so I'll call them later.  It's good for him to have these breaks every once and a while; he's been //really// stressed lately."

"I wouldn't blame him," Noin sighed, "PUACOM doesn't like to settle down, do they?  I hear they've been making some trouble for him."

Duo laughed, averting his eyes for a moment to tap on the keyboard beside him.  "Call it trouble, if ya want – it's just Rhysborov being a jerk.  Well, it's not him – probably – but the tabloids hafta get it from somewhere.  A month ago, when WEI had to let go a few people because of Mars profit losses and stuff," He swept his hands in a grand gesture, framing an unseen headline, "'Bitter WEI CEO fires ex-lover!'   Heh... and oh, this Friday's supermarket splash - 'Q.R. Winner: Heartthrob's Shocking Secrets!'  Turns out Quatre's really an android, and he forgot to tell us."   

"You made that up."

"Nope, The New Angeles Inquirer did.  The headlines are never a big deal, though – I just like making fun of Qat.  But PUACOM's been having these 'Awareness and Reality' meetings.  Big, shmoozy dinners with main courses upwards of $300 per dish and these puffy fluffies marching around proclaiming the Mars Colonization Project to be not only a waste of time and money, but also - "

"Dangerously anti-terra."  

'You got it," Duo snorted.  "I mean, maybe they'd present a good argument if they stuck to the basics.  I can understand how people would be concerned about rebuilding our //own// strength as a sphere before going on to 'conquer' other planets – and yanno, the People's Union's manifesto wasn't half-bad before they got so involved with finances and politics."

"Before Gary Rhysborov, I guess," Noin sniffed.  

"Yah.  And before Catalonia Corporate started using PUACOM to their advantage in the Stock Market," Duo muttered.  

"That's not proven yet," a soft voice cut through from off-screen.

"Eh, nobody asked you, Preventer Boy," Duo grinned at Noin.  "Heero's all antsy about me leaking info through the phone calls.  Thinks I talk too much."

Noin laughed.  "It's a private line, Heero.  Hooked up through an individualized and self-sufficient cyber-connection!"  She stated confidently.  

"See?" Duo winked over the monitor at the unseen man, "They love me so much they give me individual cyber-connections!"

Heero snorted.

"Ah, the true meaning of appreciation!" Duo mock-swooned.  "I'm actually really grateful for it, Lu," he grinned.  "It saves me a lot of time.  Well, that and avoiding the possibility that I might interrupt Tall, Blonde and Princely on an //important// call."

"He doesn't hate you, Duo."

"Right.  And I'm a test-tube baby," Duo snorted, before sobering.  "Anyway, I'm glad you guys haven't been... hurt, you know.  It's damned lucky the bombings haven't targeted any populated areas."

Noin nodded.  "Mm.  And as far as we can tell, they won't.  They seemed to be focusing on developing labs and docking bays – just enough damage to keep us from making any real progress."

"Wonderful," Duo sighed.  "Man, that sucks.  I can see how frustrating it must be for everyone there... no leads yet?"

"Well, no.  We're too busy here – and too constricted in finances to set up a real security patrol ourselves.  Zechs has kind of taken it up on himself.  But so far... nothing.  Although, there was that arrest on Earth a few weeks ago..."

"The one at the artificial metals lab?  Naw, turned out he was just a big talker.  Didn't have any connections to the Terrists at all – "

"Terrists.  Is that what they've been dubbed, now?"  Noin interjected.

"Apparently.  Media again," he grinned darkly.  "Fits, don't it?"  

Noin sighed.  "Too well.  Ah well, concerning the arrest... I mean, that's what I had heard, but I thought maybe the media was told that to keep things quiet and under control."

"Nope, both Wufei and Heero can vouch for it.  Guy was a complete bull-shitter," Duo shrugged.  "Turns out he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.  They charged him with mischief and some other petty allegations, then they let him go.  There //was// that small window of hope for about all of three hours, though, when they really thought they had something.  I mean, the guy worked at a //magnesium// manufacturing plant!  What more could they have asked for?"

"For him to have worked for the Terrists – "

"I thought you didn't want me talking about it over the phone, Heero..."

"Individual cyber-connections."

"You approve?"

"Mm."

Duo rolled his eyes at Noin.  "Wunderbar."

"If you're finished," the voice of Heero muttered from off-screen.

"Yah, yah," Duo waved a blasé hand and grinned apologetically.  "Sorry, Lu-babe – gotta cut this short."  

"Of course, Duo.  I'll talk to you next week."

He nodded, another grin suffusing his face with happiness.  

"By the way, you're looking much better, Duo."  

"Oh yeah!"  He smiled brightly, but she could tell he hadn't wanted to understand her comment.  "Work's been going great!  I finally got to expand my imports to the colonies, and I just got a Sweepers crew hired for almost a third for what they usually charge!  Plus, the new guy I hired a while back, Ray Manada – he's working out great, totally perfect.  I just promoted him to lesser metals supervisor.  Really knows what he's doing.  Makes it a lot easier for me!"  

"That's wonderful," she looked at him meaningfully.  "But you know that's not what I meant."     

He paused, and then looked almost embarrassed, uncomfortable.  "Well," he laughed, wavering, and his eyes shifted almost imperceptibly off-screen.  "...a month an' a bit... s'a long time... and, you know..."    

She smiled, not trying to suppress the happiness she felt for him.  "Goodbye, Duo."  

"Later!"  And she was treated to one more dazzling smile before the screen went black.  

Turning in her seat, she sighed deeply and closed her eyes, bringing one hand to her forehead to brush her bangs back from her face.  Her back resting against the chair, her cheek nestled in the curve of her elbow, she turned her face and stared tiredly at the landscape presented through the window; a desert world nestled in barren mountains, crowned by stars and night.  

"Lights off," she said suddenly.  The computer complied with a discordant beep, the room went black with a //snap// of mechanics, and she closed her eyes.  

"Are you off the phone?" a rich voice asked from the back of the room.

Starting, she opened her eyes to see the shadow of Zechs emerge from hallway.  

"Mmhm," she replied, pushing herself up in her chair.  "It was Duo."

"Of course," Zechs snorted, not unpleasantly, shrugging off his uniform jacket.  An unspoken question that she knew he would never ask hung in the air.  

"He's better," she said in reply, gazing absently out over the Martian landscape again.  "Much better."  

"Ah," said Zechs

"Heero Yuy's back."

"Ah," said Zechs

"It was a month or so this time."

"Not quite so long as before, then," he pushed his hair back from his forehead.  "Does he know where he went?"

"That's a silly question," she admonished.  "He was a wreck, Zechs, anyone could see that.  He never has any idea where Heero goes.  No one does."

"Mm," he murmured absently.  

"Lights on," she snapped, and their quarters went starkly bright.  "Zechs, I was very worried about him!"

"I know," he said, blinking once to adjust to the light.  "So was Winner."  

"Well, of //course// Quatre was worried!  He's Duo's best friend... Zechs.  Maybe you should talk with Heero..."

"What?"  He looked almost outraged.  

Noin faltered.  "Well," she paused.  "He respects you.  Maybe if you let him know how much these weird... absences... of his hurt Duo... he wouldn't leave anymo – "

"Noin."  He cut her off sternly.  "I don't think that's any of our business."      

"Zechs, I'm //very// worried about him!"

"You said that already."

"Well, I am.  He never tells anybody how he feels, especially concerning Heero.  //He'd// never bring it up with him – but I seriously think someone should."

"Then you can," Zechs growled softly.  "I don't want to interfere.  Besides, we've got our hands full as it is: dealing with //real// problems - "

"Zechs..."

" - And I certainly don't have time to deal with Duo Maxwell.  The boy's a complete nutcase."    

Noin, seeing the soft smile tugging at Zech's mouth, had to laugh – albeit a bit sadly.  

"Well, at least I agree with you there..."

* * * * * * * *

[AC 201, November 14th, New Angeles, Earth]

He knew.  Heero was watching him again.  

"Mmm?"

He saw him push himself away from the doorjamb, his shadow swallowing the light from the hallway.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"  

He felt a tremor slip through his legs and up his back.  He pulled the sheets up against his chin, his knuckles resting against his mouth.  

"...yeah."

He felt Heero's body slip under the covers, his arm slipping over his stomach, his hand cupping his waist.  A dry kiss was pressed to the underside of his jawbone.  He kept his eyes closed; tried not to breathe too fast, not too erratically.  

Heero kissed him again, gently pushing his hands away from his mouth.  The hand on his waist slipped down onto his hip.  

"Hey..."

"What?"  Heero kissed his ear.  

"...did you miss me?" 

It was a wonder Heero heard it all.  It sounded like a dead, frightened whisper, even in his own mind.  

But the hand moved from hip, snatched at his fingers, threaded them together.

"I love you, too." 

It might not have been said.  He didn't know, after all.  The only thing he could hear was fear and laughter.  

[end part 2]

* * * * * * * *

[1] People's Union Against the Colonization of Mars (PUACOM)

[2] Mars Colonization Project (AKA Project Rust)


	3. DAWN - pt 3

[for the big ol' warnings and such, see previous parts]

minor warnings: Post EW (spoilers for series, EW and minor Ground Zero), drama, yaoi (or some weird variation of shounen-ai), some minor het-ness, complicated plot bunnies, limes/lemons (possibly), weird takes on relationships and characterization, major angst, death.       

Main pairings: 1x2x1, 4and3involvedsomehow, 5 being his annoyingly loner self.

Secondary pairings: 6+9+6, 1+R+1 (mentioned) 

Notes: this has nothing to do with Anne Rice.  ^_^ Just thought I should clarify.  If you really wanna draw on something for the title... think Shakespeare.  *g*

**_Tis now the very witching time of night_**

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to the world 

Hamlet [III.ii.]

**i. Dawn**

_wide awake_

_and keeping distance from my soul_

_i am scared like you_

           -- Tool, _Cold and Ugly_

pt.3

* * * * * * * *

[AC 201, November 13th, New Angeles, Earth]

Heero woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Duo laughing loudly in the kitchen.  The bed was warm, the room reassuringly familiar, and he stared up into the mild sunlight streaming through the curtains – the real sun, for the first time in months.  The clock, a large white analog mounted on the opposite wall from Duo's bed, displayed the fact that it was early afternoon, so Heero rose quickly, only pausing to neatly remake the disheveled sheets.     

Everything seemed new to him, now.  The layout of the rooms, the hallways, the stairs, all of that was familiar enough to walk through blind, but the atmosphere was so incredible: everything was so white and clean and cool under his fingertips that it felt like a strange dream; as if uncovering a wound from gauze layers.

There was something wholly unearthly about the house.  It was strange because he remembered very little about what it had been before returning.  He only remembered the way the rooms had felt when Duo was in them, or the way the sheets and pillows had held his fragrance when the two of them found themselves together in bed.  He knew that he remembered nothing of the nubbin carpet under his feet, or the cool, slippery feel of the banister under his palm.  

Duo must have painted.  The walls had never been white.  

The kitchen was fresher than he remembered it.  It, too, was white and clean, steeped in sunlight and the smell of coffee and Duo's very presence.  The windows were closed but the curtains were open, and the light was crisply bright as it fell across the table and china-blue tiles on the floor.  

He saw Duo at the stove, half turned away as he talked to the active vidscreen placed in the center of the small kitchen table.  Relena's face became visible on the screen when Duo tilted his shoulder in some careless shrug, and in response to some quiet comment he made, Heero heard Relena's voice through the speakers, controlled, neat and still as sweet as two months ago.  Yes, he had heard her on interviews, he had seen her on vid-broadcasts, had heard frequent updates on her whereabouts, but it was seeing them both... the both of them together, that made him pause and relish the joy of the moment.  

He sometimes thought he left only to feel the thrill of returning.   

But he knew that wasn't true.  

" – And //then// this //guy// walks in outta the blue!  Big, macho type, yanno?  Walked outuva frickin' Tarzan flick."

Relena laughed.  

Duo tossed his head and jiggled the frying pan.  "So this guy, he walks in and plods up to my desk and is like, 'Yo.  You lookin' for someone ta hire?'  And of course, because I have virtually NO one working for me and NO time and or money to waste //looking// for people, I hire him on the spot.  Turns out the guy's a gem.  I couldn't have asked for a better supervisor.  The rest of the crew really respects him, yanno?  Manada's just that type..."

"That's definitely a blessing Duo, I – "  She paused as she caught his eyes over Duo's shoulder.  "... Heero..."

Duo spun around, his face sparking excitedly for a second before… 

"Yo, Heero," his mouth was tilted in a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and he sounded strained; looked almost //angry// underneath clenched, grinning teeth.  

//Why...?//

"Ya wanna maybe put some _clothes_ on?"

//Ah.//

"Yes.  I'll do that," Heero stated coolly.  

Turning back to his own bedroom where his duffel bag still lay unpacked on his bed, he pulled out a pair of pants.  Somewhere between buttoning them up and sliding into an old sweater, he realized the sounds in the kitchen had disappeared.  

The house was quiet.  Walking back to the kitchen again, he felt unnerved by the silence, slightly angry.  

The vidscreen was off.  

"Goddammit, I don't fucking understand you," Duo growled, angrily shuffling papers at the table.    

Heero chose not to respond to that.  

"Sometimes..." Duo sighed, exasperated.  "Sometimes I just don't get you... you're weirder than me!"  

Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he pulled another chair up to the table, still choosing to remain quiet and let Duo talk himself out.  

"I mean... jeezus! Even //I// don't walk around completely butt-naked – yanno, and god!  In front of Relena, too!  Like, what goes on in your head that you don't even stop to think, 'oh, maybe //clothes// would be a good idea'?  What, you wake up and say to yourself, 'Yup, today's the day!  I'm going NUDE!'  Maybe add a maniacal laugh just for good measure?  Yanno, I don't ever recall you being quite so hippy-esque during the wa – "

"You done?"

"Oh yes."  

Heero nodded and cast a glace at Duo over the top of his mug.  

"You're blushing," he noted.  

"I am not."  

"No, you are."  

"Heero, stop it."  

He took another sip of coffee.  He had never seen Duo blush before.  Even during... physicality.  He had seen him scared.  Angry.  Sad.  Breathless.  But never embarrassed.  

"Why are you blushing?"  He inquired.  

"Heero Yuy, if you don't drop this //right// now, I'll hit you," Duo didn't meet his eyes, and the tinge of colour on his neck and cheekbones deepened.  

"Why are – "

"I'll fuckin' SHOOT you, Yuy," Duo snapped, his eyes blazing.  "Drop it."

Heero still wondered at Duo's reactions sometimes.  Why a simple question required such a serious threat to conclude a conversation, he didn't quite understand yet.  So he sipped on his coffee and watched Duo's movements with a careful, sweeping eye.  It had been months.  Duo hadn't changed – much – but the happiness with the familiarity of his face was there, and despite the necessity of leaving, he relished the return for that reason.        

Duo seemed to be concentrating extremely hard on a paper that required his full eye contact, and his eyes were furiously scanning it, but one hand was clutched around the collar of his shirt, where Heero could see the light gold chain that had rested there since as long as he could recall.

_//I thought you knew better of yourself, Duo,//_ he thought, eyes tracking Duo's face and the movements of his hands at his shirt.  _//Perhaps that's not fair, though.  I shouldn't have left this time... I only gave you what you needed to prove how right you were... didn't I?//_

"Duo."

"Yup," Duo looked up, face slightly apprehensive; the fingers in the collar of his shirt relaxed minutely.  

He wanted to kiss him, then, and unfold those clenched fingers against his own palms.  He wanted desperately to simply take back everything he had done wrong, and to be able to pull Duo onto his lap and feel that exhilarating weight on his thighs and the gentle squeeze of Duo's legs against his hips.  He wanted to be able to make things right by simply saying what he felt and what he wanted.  

"Why are you angry?"  That wasn't right. He'd wanted to apologize.  Now wasn't the time, they could talk later, they could fight later... why was he saying these things now?  

"I'm sorry?"  Duo dropped his hands, his wrists tipped against the edge of the table.  

Heero couldn't force any words.  He didn't want to do this now.  He wanted to do it right, and he knew there wouldn't be another chance to try again.  

"You think I'm angry?"  Duo smiled, his mouth looked slightly shaky.  "Heero, I'm not angry.  You just came back... I mean... how could I be angry?  That's stupid."   

"I made you uncomfortable."

Duo flushed and his eyelids lowered.  "Gah," he swallowed convulsively.  "Well... it shouldn't have."  

"But it did."

Duo shot him a half-crazed glare, his eyes looked angry and helpless.  "Why are you doing this...?"  He whispered hoarsely.  

//What do I say to that?//

"I don't know.  But we have to talk about you."

"Why are you doing this now?"   

Heero didn't know.  It just seemed as if the words were simply falling from his mouth of their own accord.  It was as if the restraint his brain wanted to place on the conversation never tugged the reins hard enough.  Not when it came to Duo.  Never.

"We have to talk about you."

"Why now?" Duo's mouth twitched unsurely at the edges, a frightened grimace laced with venom.  

"Because..."

"Why are you doing this?" The skittering anger in Duo's voice warped the rich smoothness from the words, even in a whisper.  "You waltz back in here, in and out – like you think you've got some kind of crazy doggie-door!?  And now you say you want to talk about //me//.  You //know// it's... hard... you know I can't talk about //me//.  Why are you doing this?"  

"Because I need to."

"Why now?  Did you completely forget everything we had //before// you decided to leave?  Did you just //forget// that everything was okay?  Why do you want to do this?  What do you want?"

"Everything wasn't... okay."  

"What do you //want//?"  Duo looked at him as though there was a lie written all over his face.  "Tell me."  

"I want you."  

Duo's eyes narrowed and a low hiss emanated somewhere in the back of his throat.

"Duo..."

"...don'tdothis..." the fretful edge of his voice could almost be tasted.  His pupils were so large his eyes looked black.  

"Duo," he said.  That was enough. He was all he felt sometimes.  

The lines of Duo's mouth were quivering.  "So have me!" he snapped suddenly in that grating whisper.  "But you take it all, you son of a bitch."  

Heero didn't know what to say to the look in Duo's eyes, or the way something scared and angry twisted Duo's mouth.  But he saw the way Duo's hands went to the collar of his shirt and to the secrets hidden under it - fisting and clenched and clawing at the fabric – and he reached out and took hold of those gritted fingers in his own hands.  

Duo looked at him as though he was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen.  

And he carefully unfurled each fist, threaded his own fingers through Duo's, and brought Duo's hands to his mouth to press a kiss to each palm.  

His lips still against Duo's skin, he said, "All, then."  

And that night, when he woke, Heero was alone.  The sheets were cool, and the sound of soft breathing could be heard from the room across the hall – but there was a light, gold chain resting around his neck where there had been nothing before, and the treat of a kiss he had not forced.       

* * * * * * *

[AC 201, November 16th, Colony L3 – II66574C]

The window was open.  Through it, Quatre could hear the sounds of sultry laughter and children's voices, sticky-sweet and lilting.  From a far-off construction site, there was the slow, steady creak of machinery and clink of heavy hammering.  Someone had their radio playing, just a slurred, lukewarm moan of inflection somewhere in the background.  The light was bright, remarkably so, but the air was stagnant, and the minute breeze that filtered through the window did nothing to freshen the old, moldy smell of the kitchen.  

Quatre sighed, shifting.  "At least let me wash the dishes," he said tiredly, sinking back into the creaking chair.  

"No," the voice from the other room replied, quiet as ever.  "You are here to relax."  

"Trowa," Quatre rolled his head along the back of the chair to look at the empty doorway.  "I can't relax if the apartment smells like rotten cheese."  

"Uh - no offense!" he finished quickly, scooting up in the chair as Trowa entered the room.  

Trowa just sent an unreadable look his way.  

"Let me help with the cleaning," he said, drumming absent fingers along the table edge.  "I want to."  

"Cathy will do it."  

"Cathy shouldn't have to.  Let me."  

"I don't want this to be an issue," Trowa said firmly.  

Quatre ignored him.  "You have to take better care of yourself, Trowa."

"Speak for yourself," came the immediate response.      

"I... beg your pardon?"  Quatre looked at him quizzically, feeling almost hurt. 

"You've lost weight.  I saw you just a month ago and you've lost weight."  Trowa didn't look him in the eyes.    

Quatre looked away, cradling his chin in his palm.  Outside, a child shrieked delightedly, and a door slammed somewhere down the street.  

"Not that much..." he murmured.  

"Quatre."  

He laughed, a nervous explosion of sound.  It didn't seem to travel anywhere, as if it stuck to the inside of his mouth and filled his head with the dirty, sticky noise.  Rubbing his hands along his thighs, he shook his head.  

"Why do I even try to put anything past you?"  He said tiredly, rising from the chair and crossing to the sink.  

"I...I've been very busy," he continued, turning on the tap.  It sputtered, and then released a gush of slightly red-tinged water.  "Very busy.  Really, things haven't changed all that much since I saw you last... and you probably know everything – hand me a towel.  No, I don't care, Trowa, I'm doing the dishes."

He gestured forcefully for the towel and Trowa complied after a short pause.  

"I want to hear it from you," Trowa said, as he settled into a chair.

Quatre turned back to the sink with a sigh, grateful to be doing //something//.  "The Terrist attacks are becoming almost //regular//, now," he said.  "In the past month, there were fourteen bombings related to docking bays in the new sector.  We even gave them a security patrol – right from the New Angeles Law Force – but..." he sighed.  "We've been losing profits steadily.  Besides all this, PUACOM seems to be gaining everything we're losing – support, money... everything.  Trowa..."

He dropped his head to his chest, his eyes falling closed.  

"We discussed... at the last finance meeting... pulling the plug on MCP."

"Terminating the Mars Colony Project?"

Quatre nodded, barely noticing the tear that slipped down his cheek.  "I don't want to," he shook his head.  "God, I don't //want// to!  I have... Zechs and Noin... //friends// involved in Project Rust – they'd be devastated if we had to pull funding.  There'd be nowhere for them to go – all those jobs lost..." his voice cracked.  "Do you //know// how many people we've employed?"

Trowa said nothing.

"Do you?" Quatre scrubbed furiously at a pan, the tear wiped away on the back of his sleeve.  "Twenty thousand jobs related to Project Rust and the Mars colony in three years!  We couldn't have asked for a better post-war project.  It employed skilled mobile suit pilots, technicians, space pilots, used scrap materials, old MS, created new scientific facilities, living quarters...

"...Stupid Dorothy..."

Trowa raised an eyebrow as Quatre turned to face him.  "Dorothy?"  

"Catalonia Corporate's been funding PUACOM.  They announced their full endorsement last week."  He sighed again, his mouth turned down in a small scowl.  "She... she always does things like that..."  

"When did this suddenly lose all gravity and become a schoolyard squabble?"  Trowa asked pointedly.  

Quatre sputtered; his eyes flashed.  "I-It's //not//!"  

"It seems like it is, very much," Trowa replied coolly.  "This isn't politics you two are playing at – whatever you would have anyone else believe.  It's a personal vendetta."  

"Well," Quatre laughed weakly.  "I suppose you work with what you know.  I never was very good at politics, after all..."          

"That's not funny."

"//I// thought it was."

"You're a better person than that.  Plus, you're hurting yourself."  

Quatre's eyes went cold.  "What would you have me do," he intoned, deliberately draining the statement of question.  

"I'm not the person you should be asking that," Trowa met his cool gaze with equal intensity.  

"Well!" Quatre threw his arms up in exasperation, pushing himself away from the sink.  "Forgive me!  You //did// seem to pretend to know an awful lot about the situation – I apologize if I assumed too much!"    

Trowa just //looked// at him.  

"Oh god," Quatre sagged, his arms falling tiredly to his sides.  "I'm exhausted.  Trowa... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... " he let out a long breath.  

"I'm exhausted," he repeated.  "Can we not talk about this anymore?  Not right now..."

Trowa nodded, rising from his chair.  "I'll run you a bath."  

Quatre - forgetting the value and meaning of water on the colony, no longer hearing the sounds of the children in the street or the heavy, muffled hammering - smiled.  

"I'd like that... very much."      

* * * * * * * * 

[AC 201, November 19th, North American Preventers HQ, New Angeles]

When Chang Wufei re-entered his shared office at Preventers Headquarters for the last time that night - just a little after one in the morning - he found the lights off, except for the eerie glow of a computer where Sally Po sat, reading a report off the screen.  He paused in the doorway, scowling as he watched her scroll tiredly through the document.  Her eyes were fixed on the screen, but her eyelids drooped and sprang open as she yawned at frequent intervals.  

Wufei rapped his knuckles on the inside of the doorjamb and she blinked, tearing her eyes away from the screen to look at him.  

"I'm going now."

She smiled tiredly.  "Okay.  'Night, Wufe - ." his name was cut off by a awn 

He snorted and grabbed his coat from the hook by the door.  "I will call when I arrive home, and if you're still here when I do, I will force you to eat scraps of gundanium for breakfast."

She laughed.  "And people say you're unpleasant."

"They'd better not," he replied, quite calmly.  "Go home, Sally.  The report will be right where you left it tomorrow."  

"Alright, alright," she sighed and waved him off, "I'll leave in ten minutes."

"I will call to make sure."

"I know you will.  Just go, Wufei."

He snorted once again and ducked out the door.     

She waited until his footsteps had faded, and the muted sound of an engine rumbled from the parking lot outside, before she pulled her cell-phone from her belt and dialed.  Putting the phone to her ear, she went back to document, scrolling through until the other side picked up.  

"Ee-yup.  Whaddaya want?"  
  


"Just checking in," she murmured.  

"Howsit going then?"

"No need to be irritable, Red," Sally told the speaker, smiling as she scrolled to the end of the document and closed the file.  "Things are fine, and as on schedule as we could hope for."

"That's not enough of a reassurance for me.  What you call 'on schedule' is not necessarily what I need to keep my ass out of the fire."

"You're such a faithless idiot.  Has any one ever told you that?"

"No one needs to, I know it damn well myself."

She sighed angrily and entered the password for file entry.  "It's not just _//your//_ ass that's on the line here, you know.  Everyone involved has a great deal riding on what happens from here on in."        

"So has Yuy come through yet?"

"He should be in communication with Une tomorrow after 7 pm," Sally replied briskly as she powered down her computer.   

"Hm.  If this doesn't work he is SO – "

"Relax.  He'll do fine.  You've never seen his work before."

"Which is why I'm so antsy about this!  We can't have any slip ups, even in the preliminary investigations."

"Like I said, relax."

"Dammit, I can't!  I've never felt so fuckin' out in the open before, Sal."

Sally paused, a dark expression crossing her face.  "Something wrong?"  She asked, very seriously.

"Not that I can tell.  But the covert position you've got me in makes me feel fuckin' downright uncomfortable."  

"Like I said," Sally said, emphatically, slowly, "You think he knows?"

"He can't.  I know he can't.  But he was a goddamned terrorist, Sal!  You know tha – "

"I know," she cut him off.  "He's smart.  But frankly, Red, you've got a lot on him.  I wouldn't worry about it.  And really, he's the least of our worries."

"No shit.  Speaking of which, how are the damage reports you got transferred from the Mars Terra-formed Colonies?"

"No different from the ones Noin has sent me before.  The most recent attack was on the newest development in the Sinai Planum's north lab colony – Sector 5 – that was to be developed."

"No casualties, just damage."

"Yeah.  Another docking bay."

"Can't they ever do something original?"

She resisted the urge to reach through the phone and swat him.  "You're being flip again, asshole."  

"When am I not, hon?" he laughed.   

Sally sighed.  "How Une puts up with you... I just don't know.  You're lucky Yuy's never met you, or he'd fucking kill you."

"So I've heard." 

"That's what we're counting on," Sally muttered, half to herself.

"Hook, line and sinker."  

"You got it, Red," she flicked her wrist over to check her watch.  "Hey, Cee's going to be calling me any second to make sure I'm not here.  Gotta go."

"All right."

She hung up, and just as the cell phone was slipped back into her belt, the office telephone gave a shrill shriek.  Sighing, she grabbed the receiver and, holding it at arm's length, yelled - "I'm not here, Chang!  Go to bed!" - and promptly hung up. 

* * * * * * * *

-- RUST will be run through Project Sunrise accordingly and in moderation.  Do not, I repeat, do NOT target the operational and habitable sectors until further notice.  The Benefactor is well aware of Sunrise, but will not be counseled if further action need be taken…  

…Project Fools will be executed as planned, the target will attend and be in the discussed position at the designated time.  The Benefactor has not been counseled but is aware of the consequences should Target Fools be allowed to live.  But, I repeat again, the Benefactor has //not// been counseled.  Do not discuss use of Materials for such a purpose in any proximity of The BF's Office…

… Terminate this message and all files when completed. –

[end part 3]

_[end DAWN]_

_* * * * * * * *_


End file.
